


Hibernation Intoxication

by happox



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Normal Life, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-17
Updated: 2016-09-17
Packaged: 2018-08-15 11:49:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8055175
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/happox/pseuds/happox
Summary: Fareeha wants to impress the gorgeous blonde at the bar so her best friend helps out.





	Hibernation Intoxication

Her forehead is coated in sweat. Her teeth grind together. She grits them, groans. Exerting every part of herself for a single purpose. For victory.

Her right arm is aching. It’s going to be sore, sorer than after the toughest workout. Her palm feels slippery, but her grip is as tight around Zarya’s as it can possibly be. What she lacks in size, she makes up for in tenacity.

It shouldn’t be this difficult. Fareeha knows better than to arm-wrestle with her closest behemoth of a friend, after many a failed attempt. She’s learnt her lesson and then some, even when she’s been given liquor courage. However, today it’s different.

A moment ago, before their match started, before the crowd of adoring women surrounded them to cheer, they were just sitting by this table and drinking together, when Fareeha saw Her. A blonde woman sitting by the bar, clad in snug whites impossible to dirty. She exuded a sense of untouchability and class, sipping red wine and speaking to no one, Fareeha was immediately smitten. She loves mysteries and sophisticated, troubled women.

She’d said to Zarya, look behind you, but don’t be obvious – and Zarya had immediately turned around without a hint of subtlety. She knows her friend, and knew what Fareeha wanted, so she offered this to her: a chance to impress such a classy woman.

Arm-wrestle me, Zarya had said – her answer to everything. Arm-wrestle me, and I’ll let you win. Not easily, of course, we have to make it believable.

It hadn’t seemed like a good idea until Fareeha had gotten another drink, but now here she is, straining herself and trying her damnedest to win against someone who isn’t even serious.

The majority of the crowd is cheering for her, the underdog. She’s been just barely able to shift her focus to see that the blonde woman is watching her with interest. Even so, Zarya has quite a few fans too. She’s always been enviously good at impressing women.

Finally, Zarya starts to relent. Fareeha groans unattractively and pushes further. Little by little, she’s forcing down Zarya’s hand towards the table surface, and even though it’s all pretend, it feels really good to be even close to victory.

Their strategy is working. The blonde woman has stood up to see the table through the crowd separating them. She must want for Fareeha to win, and Fareeha wants to win for her. Zarya is a truly good friend, she thinks for a moment.

It all suddenly shifts then when Mei appears. Fareeha doesn’t see her until it’s already over, but it’s her arrival which changes everything. Zarya forgets her plan and instantaneously reverses their positions, slamming down Fareeha’s hand on the table instead as if without any resistance.

She roars, standing up and motioning with her arms stretched out towards the sky, proclaiming that she’s the strongest. The crowd, even the portion who cheered for Fareeha, flock to her. And that is when Fareeha sees Mei, Zarya’s ex – _the_ ex – who she broke up with due to the strains of a distance relationship. Of course Zarya would win for her – would do anything for her – if she’s back in town. Fareeha can’t truly be mad, even though she feels utterly humiliated at yet another embarrassing loss.

She clutches her hurt right hand to her chest. The wrist aches from the force with which Zarya slammed it down. Pride and body both wounded, she thinks to retreat for the evening. So when her escape is interrupted by a gentle German-like accent, asking if she’s all right, she doesn’t know what to do.

The blonde woman approaches her and grips her arm carefully. Fareeha lets her hold it, as she studies the wrist. She’s a doctor, she says, and starts searching in her purse for gauze bandage. She wraps up the wrist with Fareeha’s permission, and her touch lingers, spreading electricity throughout Fareeha’s body.

Her name is Angela, and she’s attracted to strong, wounded women. They leave the bar together and walk towards her place, her left arm linked with Fareeha’s right. It’s already gotten sore, but it’s undoubtedly worth it. She falls in love within an hour. Victory tastes sweet, and Angela does too.


End file.
